A great article from Modern Painters, November 2006:
One of the reasons California, and Los Angeles in particular, are challenging and unusual places is their persistence in conjuring a multiplicity of ideologies that appear to take concrete social form. Los Angeles projects an elastic quality, like that of images or a rubber band; it can snap back and forth from the politically radical to the politically conservative. The ideology of each blurs to the point where no one can tell the difference between the two, much less notice that the language and discourse produced by these positions only pretends to move, never escaping confinement with its own mirror image.
Faced with a world more fantastic than anything in any gallery or museum, dominated and defined by absurd wars that threatened to rage without end, what could be more delusional than claiming that contemporary art has the capacity to create social change? It’s not that I doubt the sincerity of any artist who makes work that is socially or politically relevant. What concerns me is the consensual lie we live in together, pretending that what we make as artists has any political value outside the artworld, when in truth these so-called politically manifestations are displayed in galleries and museums, bought and sold for the artists’ and institutions’ profit, benefiting no one else. A classic argument of neoliberalism suggests that preaching to the converted is worthwhile; I don’t believe it. I find neoliberalism as ineffective as neoconservatism, with both serving only to pacify the guilt and regret of this country’s history at the expense of new ideas that could move us forward. As much as I will argue for the genuine capacity of art to affect who we are as human beings, I can only observe that we have neither the strength nor the courage to commit ourselves in any way that is politically substantive. Who among us is willing to sacrifice for the benefit of others the lifestyle we have come to enjoy from living in an empire?
Fear, not hope, abounds when one believes hope no longer exists. In less comfortable conditions, the opposite holds true. I recently returned from a two-week stay in Cali, Colombia, where I was invited to teach a class at an artist’s space called Lugar a Dudas. The name translates, provocatively, as “room for doubt.” Artist Oscar Muñoz and gallery director Sally Mizrachi have created an aesthetic and political oasis, a utopian reality where need and risk of the highest order go hand in hand. The art center attempts to fill the black hole at the heart of the city, whose infrastructure has collapsed and whose populace is brutalized by endless cycles of violence. Muñoz and Mizrachi have used their own resources to purchase a building and create a program that includes exhibitions, lectures, film screenings, library and computer resources, and a residency program and classes that bring visiting international artists to Cali. While this all might sound familiar to us in the United States, Lugar a Dudas is the only place of its kind in Colombia. Everything that the space offers is free of charge. I would argue that no such institution exists in the United States, acting in such good faith and without ulterior motives.
What worries me is that so much gain is to be made from so-called political art, with careers and fame built on mannerisms that claim a political pedigree. These works regurgitate familiar rhetoric and offer cozy answers so everyone can feel warm and fuzzy and sleep at night. It has been said that people should not be afriad of their governments but governments should be afraid of their people. Similarly, there was a time when artists led the discourse in art—before it became an industry—and art and ideas were dangerous.